


Fate Fell Short This Time

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Language, Memories, Past Squall/Rinoa, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: She saved the day and the world still hated her. While trying to find where she belongs since Ultimecia's defeat, Rinoa crosses paths with someone she loathes—someone who might actually understand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsyouburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsyouburn/gifts).



>  
> 
> _This place was never the same again after you came and went_  
>  _How can you say you meant anything different to anyone standing alone_  
>  _On the street with a cigarette on the first night we met_
> 
>  
> 
> _Look to the past and remember her smile_  
>  _And maybe tonight I can breathe for a while_  
>  _I'm not in the seat, I think I'm fallin' asleep_  
>  _But then all that it means is[I'll always be dreaming of you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCacRhtSkBM)_  
> 

She never expected to see him again.

But what _was_ she to expect? Time realigned itself, though they _all_ changed. Whether it was the perpetual nightmares haunting them or reevaluating what mattered after cheating death, it rippled through everyone like a single raindrop lost in a lake. She stopped raising her expectations of life—shattered it outright, in a sense—and allowed herself to exist. The anger, the rejections, the silence, the bitter truth, the stillness and inaction, the broken promises and forgotten dreams—everything she loathed. All of it. She allowed it to wash over her until she learned to move on.

Apparently the threads of fate weren’t satisfied with her self-imposed lesson; Rinoa had more to experience and let go.

He wasn’t the welcoming committee she desired upon arriving at Fisherman’s Horizon. If his bemused expression revealed anything, he hadn’t planned on bumping into _her_ , either. But it _was_ him. The sandy scruff covering his face was enough of a mask to fool most—even she checked twice—but the faded scar carved between his eyes had yet to blend with the rest of his complexion.

A nearly perfect mirror image of another one she knew too well.

The reminder brought a hitch to her breath. She blinked and returned to a time better forgotten. The memory blurred, but the dread burned within. He had dragged her to… she couldn’t remember where. Or why. He smirked all the while, not valuing her life. He had once. Or perhaps that was another pretty lie she swallowed in her youth. Whatever she had believed then shattered; she didn’t recognize the young man sacrificing her to the sorceress who tugged his strings.

She _did_ recognize him now, though. Her stomach turned and gurgled. With an inhale, she relived the moment a hundredfold. With an audible exhale, she returned to the present moment.

He stepped forward. She took two steps back. He lifted a free hand, the other clutching a hefty sack lumped over his left shoulder, and parted his lips. Maybe he said something. A greeting, an apology, her name, _anything_. By then, Rinoa turned and stormed off.

Besides, she had bigger matters to attend to than humor the likes of Seifer Almasy.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Rinoa closed her eyes and sighed. She retreated to the hole-in-the-wall pub by the docks to unwind, not to subject herself to men—more like _boys_ , truth be told—and their terrible one-liners. But the stout was decent enough and the counter was clean. The rest was typical bar ambiance: the dim lights, the off-kilter ceiling fan, the constant game of billiards, the tired locals at the other end, and the even more tired bartender cleaning glasses. The holo-feed accompanying the radio was new, though. Mimicked Estharian attempts, but it was Timber’s tech which adorned the wall—crude and bulky, yet practical.

He was no different. Something old and worn, pretending to blend with the world. She liked to say the same about herself—on a good day, anyways.

With one last swig, Rinoa swirled on her stool to glare at him. The trenchcoat was gone along with his usual bravado, standing several inches shorter than she last recalled. A thick, baggy sweater covered his wide shoulders with a faded t-shirt peeking out from the collar. Several patches on his denim jeans wore thin. Same could be said about his face.

Rinoa raised an unamused eyebrow. “What do you want, Seifer?”

He scoffed—the first glimmer of his old self. “Well, when you say it like _that_ —”

“How _else_ do you want me to say it?” She swiped her glass to drink and grumbled when not a drop remained. “What did you expect, anyways? Just stroll on up without a care and strike up a conversation?”

“I didn’t expect anything, but doing nothing didn’t feel right, either.”

“You would’ve been better off doing nothing,” Rinoa muttered, turning to face the bar. “Leave me alone.”

Those heavy boots of his stayed still. She glimpsed his shadow from the side. Rinoa grimaced.

“ _What_?” she almost hissed.

“Can I at least get you a drink?”

Oh, that was rich. She wanted to laugh. Instead, she coughed up a pitiful sound that left her eyes prickling with a promise of tears.

“You can get out of my life,” she offered. “That’s all.”

Nothing. Then a drawn-out sigh, followed by the groan of old floorboards needing replacements a year ago. She never lifted her head. Not to thank the bartender for another round, not to listen to the news development of Garden disbanding, and certainly not to watch Seifer shuffle on out of the pub.

Rinoa lifted her refilled beer, sipped, licked her lips, and sighed. Her business in Fisherman’s Horizon wasn’t over. Six more days stranded in the middle of nowhere. Six more chances to run into the shadow of a life she once had.


	2. Chapter 2

Seagulls glided overhead like kites. The sun glittered in the rolling, ocean waves until the murky waters transformed into a liquid diamond. The briny air tickled Rinoa’s nose and the wind caught in her hair, fashioned in a bob. She sighed and folded her arms upon the wooden railing. Despite being early, she waited longer than she anticipated. Surely those accustomed to the luxury of Esthar’s lightning fast technology understood the importance of punctuality. Bullet trains and hover vehicles had yet to influence society outside of Esthar. Fisherman’s Horizon was no exception. The representative meeting her needed to walk to their destination, the same as everyone else.

Maybe one day those secret technologies prized in the city-state would spread to every corner of civilization. Something more than borrowed ideas built on outdated scraps. Or stubborn folk would turn up their noses and cling to their antiquated radios while others reveled in real-time visual feeds and life-sized holograms. It took a certain type of mind to create that which no one had begun to imagine. Imitation was simple, but sheer creation? That required more than skill.

And for all the innovation Esthar possessed, Timber captured the metropolis’ attention. Esthar gazed at Timber and saw a young nation eager to accept their methods. Timber looked to Esthar and found another version of Galbadia’s military weaseling into their peaceful lives. Well, most of Timber. Rinoa’s opinions veered elsewhere, more parallel than perpendicular. Hard not to when members of both cities approached her with a mixture of awe, curiosity, and extreme caution.

Rinoa flexed her hand. Flames sparked to life and licked her palm before fizzling. Innate magic—the mark of a sorceress. Not like Ultimecia, though. The simple cantrip busied her fingers and occupied her mind. A trick to ease her anxiety, yet not alarm the general public. The shorter the leash she kept on her emotions, the better. The world could bestow a hundred awful titles upon her, but she was _still_ the same girl who fought to secure Timber’s independence. Always herself. No spell could ever change that.

_It_ _’d be nice if everyone understood that,_ she thought, slumping forward to perch her chin upon her forearm. Rinoa scanned the bustling docks below. _I_ _’m not going to burn down cities over a disagreement. It’s been long enough since we put a stop to—_ A chill rattled her bones. She released a labored breath she didn’t know she held. _Things are looking up now,_ she told herself. _They are. They have to be. That_ _’s why you’re here. That’s—_

She blinked and lifted herself. Seagulls crowded a fishing boat returning from a morning venture. The men on-board hauled off numerous lobster crates. Dock workers retrieved the load to either deliver to shops within the pier or bargain with eager merchants pacing several blocks down from Rinoa. She cared little for the crustaceans; her sights fell upon something else of interest.

Or someone, to be exact.

A thick sweater clung to Seifer as he helped unload the boat, similar to what he wore the previous day. He donned a loose beanie, pulled low to cover his eyebrows and hide most of that scar which branded him like a bullseye. A man half his size barked orders at Seifer. His mouth never opened for a sly remark.

There had been a time when she longed for the day when someone smacked him into his place. He wasn’t as clever as he deemed himself to be.

“ _I should_ _’ve made SeeD by now,_ ” he once told her in what felt like a lifetime ago.

She laughed then. “ _So what_ _’s stopping you?_ ”

Rinoa couldn’t recall his answer. Probably something snide mixed with innuendo to further charm her. It worked. Well, it _had_. That illusion faded when she arrived at Balamb Garden, dressed in the single outfit she held onto from her Deling City days, and discovered him wallowing in defeat. Not even the slightest bit relieved to see her. He might have arranged her meeting with Headmaster Cid, but it was the last useful thing Seifer ever did for her.

Maybe it was better he never made SeeD, considering the turn of recent events. She shuddered at the possibility of life turning out different if Seifer was the one who showed up in Timber instead of—

_No._ Rinoa shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts. _Not going to dwell on it._

She braced herself against the railing, fingers curled into the worn wood. Again her eyes fell to Seifer. He walked up and down the docks to hand off crate after crate. Amusement never humored her lips. Not when she regarded him with pity. _So the rumors weren_ _’t true—you didn’t die. Guess you’re too damn stubborn for that._

Another separate sentiment stirred in Rinoa when he paused and brought his gaze up to meet her own.

Dark eyes fluttered wide open. She gasped and scurried backwards until her back crushed into a nearby building. Jagged breaths scraped her throat. Then she laughed. Nothing cheerful danced from her lips; the sound surfaced with a cough, already dead before escaping, and crashed to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Rinoa murmured, unsure if she directed the question at Seifer or herself.

Her name echoed on a passing breeze. She pushed off the building and shielded her eyes from the bright sun. Esthar’s ambassador, bundled in elaborate, vivid robes better suited for a carnival, stood on the opposite end and acknowledged her with a slight bow. So did the small crowd accompanying the woman. Less of a crowd and more of an entourage. Fisherman’s Horizon ensured their weapons stayed in their homelands, though the Estharians substituted the lack of protection with numbers. As if that could stop a snap of Rinoa’s fingers.

With a deep breath, she quirked her lips and headed in their direction, ignoring the sliver that wished someone else had called her name.


	3. Chapter 3

She avoided the dock the following day. Even as the Estharian ambassador meandered Fisherman’s Horizon throughout their talks, Rinoa steered their path away from the boats and pier. Salt permeated the air, the constant breeze carried the seagulls’ calls, and Seifer Almasy was out of sight.

Her mind drifted. Rinoa struggled to focus on the blather, waiting for the ambassador to arrive at the objective. For a nation which valued speed and precision, the ambassador’s rambling was as much of a culture shock to Rinoa as the rest of the world was to Esthar. Perhaps stationary solitude in a massive metropolis mystified most Estharians.

Pertinent threads wove through the grandiose prattle. Rinoa perked up at mentions of Timber’s current technology holding the basic foundations which built Esthar. Further development required knowledge only Esthar held. Images of Timber elevating to a proper city left Rinoa smiling. Trains morphed into hover transport. Local radio towers refined into smaller equipment, yet quadrupled in prowess. The enthusiasm for change already brewed in each citizen’s heart—it was simply a matter of convincing them that Esthar wasn’t a threat.

And in reply to Esthar’s initial request, Timber sent the woman that every living human hesitated before.

Rinoa smiled and nodded. Anything to put the ambassador and the twenty-five companions lingering behind—she counted this time—at ease. The neutral location could only benefit her so much; all else was on Rinoa.

They rounded a corner and whatever words Rinoa fashioned died on her tongue. Walking towards them was the individual she failed to elude. Of course he made eye contact. Of _course_ he headed straight for her.

Seifer smirked and Rinoa glared. With a deep inhale, she soothed the magic wishing to burst from her fingertips to a simmer.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Rinoa said to the ambassador.

She wouldn’t use her powers to jerk Seifer into the nearby nook of a back alley. Not in public, let alone in front of Estharians. Instead, she softened her features and curled her fingers at him. He followed, either too dumb to guess her intentions or smart enough to know declining was not an option.

“I’m starting to wonder,” Seifer began, his voice a quiet, yet snide rumble, “if you’re following me—”

“Me?!” Rinoa whipped around, skewered him with narrowed eyes, and matched his tone in rushed whispers. “Of _all_ the people in this damn place, _you_ are the one who should be answering questions, not _me_.”

He squinted and folded his arms. “Says the sorceress who is consorting with the nation who wants her locked up forever.”

“At least they don’t want to execute me for any crimes.” Seifer visibly lost several inches in height. A short-lived smirk flashed across her lips, replaced with a frown. “What are you even doing here?”

“Tch, what’s it to you?”

“Seifer, I thought you were dead.” She paused, dropped her gaze, and clung to the single ring dangling from her necklace—her mother’s wedding band. “We _all_ did.”

Distant waves filled the silence between them. Rinoa forced out a sigh, as if it cleansed herself from the memories. Her initial brush with Esthar since time corrected itself was a far cry from her current interactions. Toxic words poured from each mouth. Every finger stabbed in her direction. Esthar wanted justice and rightly so. Rinoa couldn’t reverse the events involving Lunatic Pandora nor could she—or anyone—find who was responsible for the catastrophe.

“Well,” Seifer said with a defeated shrug, “I’m alive. Happy?”

“But how?”

“What do you mean _how_?” The increased volume of his voice was worrisome. “You want a damn picture book of the whole thing? Will _that_ help?”

“No, it’s—”

“Maybe you should keep pretending I’m dead, alright? That would be better for everyone.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, cynical amusement tugging the corners of his lips. “Now I have to spend every waking moment worried about those Esthar morons and whether or not they recognized my face just then.” Another pause. Rinoa held both her breath and that intense, cyan gaze. “I’ve been laying low for a reason. I’m not stupid. Sadly can’t turn invisible, but this?” He gestured to himself and their surroundings. “This is the closest I’ve gotten to disappearing. People aren’t inclined to fuss about much. Also helps I never set foot here until after... well, _everything_. No one remembers who I am or what I did. Better that way.”

Rinoa raised an eyebrow. “So you’re spending your time _fishing_?”

“Working the docks. Not the same thing. The hell do _you_ care what I do with my life?”

“Okay... but that’s it? Just stick around until you grow old—”

“Is there a point to all of this?”

“The point is that you’ve been a ghost for six years and now we can’t stop bumping into each other.”

Scant laughter escaped Seifer. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

Except it wasn’t funny. Not even close. Rinoa balled her hands into fists and clenched her jaw.

“Fine,” Seifer said through a sigh. “Excuse me for intruding on your day. You got more important shit to focus on, right? Being the hero of Timber or whatever title they decided to give you?”

Rinoa’s spine stiffened. “You... heard about that?”

“Tch, hard not to. Every damn radio frequency wouldn’t shut up about the resistance member turned sorceress and her efforts to establish independence and restore peace in Timber and blah blah blah. Can’t lie—was rather proud to hear you were doing well.”

She swore her heart stopped and her mouth dried up. “ _Proud_?”

Seifer shrugged and averted his gaze. “I don’t know. Guess I was happy that at least one of us was doing well. Figured I’d let you know. That’s all. Didn’t have any other reason to stroll on up to you but to congratulate your efforts. So yeah. That’s done with.” He pivoted away. “I’ll stay out of your life now.”

Her eyes followed him as he trudged out of the cramped alley. She didn’t reemerge immediately, consumed by contemplation. The night he found her in the pub and approached her.... Jaded sadness marked his face. Nothing worthy of pride—for her or himself.

The thought plunged her deeper into her memories. Little separated them when they first met. They laughed over shared jokes, dared one another to commit minor, yet ridiculous acts of rebellion, and refused to bend for anything, even each other. Rinoa never felt more alive than she did that summer. In that fraction of time, she considered him a kindred spirit—a perfect mirror image of herself.

She knew better now. No one was her other half; she needed to live for herself first and foremost. From her early days with the Timber Owls to her awakening as a sorceress, it was never enough to change who she truly was. Still, a cracked mirror continued to display a reflection.

And when she gazed upon Seifer, she discovered her image reflecting back.

Steadying her breaths, she abandoned the alley and returned to the curious, yet patient group. Rinoa swallowed the myriad thoughts and questions saved for Seifer until one remained—maybe she already knew why he frowned the other night at the pub.


	4. Chapter 4

Something worse than Seifer loomed in Fisherman’s Horizon. Radios unveiled the downfall of Garden and questioned the future for the decommissioned SeeDs. Rinoa paused amidst the conversation with the ambassador the following day and listened.

The general public was livid. If Garden was to uphold their initial agreement—the entire damn reason why they were established in the first place—then why did their sworn enemy reside in their base? Stern questions broke into screams. Riots evolved into a disaster SeeD never prepared to combat.

Rinoa stared into her lap. _I guess it didn_ _’t matter where I went in the end._

Beneath the smiles, Rinoa discerned genuine fear in the stares fixed upon her. At least from those who knew _what_ she was. Esthar hesitated because of that fear; despite their desires, they weren’t about to prod another sorceress into submission. Rinoa hoped her cooperation with meeting their ambassador was adequate proof that she meant no harm. Clearly her efforts in Timber’s independence didn’t convey her peaceful intentions. Would it have made a difference if people witnessed a sorceress playing a diplomatic role with a nation which wished nothing more than to imprison her? Would it have made _him_ reconsider his choice?

A breath flowed through her. Anxiety whispered in her mind. Maybe he’d look for her now with no duty to uphold. She almost laughed as a stubborn memory flashed to life. What could have convinced him to abandon that force-fed sense of responsibility? Then again, abandonment and him weren’t on speaking terms. But still. Was their bond not an incentive?

Her stilled tongue prompted the Estharian ambassador to call for a reprieve—pick-up where they left off come morning. Rinoa rose and departed the sitting room in the bed and breakfast without a word.

The ocean wind whipped by her, a tangible weight akin to a punch as she emerged onto the streets. Still an oddity after three days in Fisherman’s Horizon. She longed for gentle breezes carrying the rich, mellow scent the forest provided. She missed company who trusted her intentions and smiled at her without masking their true emotions. The food was good in Fisherman’s Horizon, anyways—a blend of fresh ingredients matched with comforting recipes. The little diner several blocks down was the perfect place to eat at; only the locals lingered after the dinner rush.

The scent of fryer oil and bacon greeted her as she entered. Worn, nautical memorabilia adorned the walls. Most of the seats by the counter were occupied, save for one. Rinoa shuffled towards it, glancing at the specials menu. _Hmm_ _… maybe that fried shrimp and clam pasta will do_ —

She brought her gaze to center and skidded to a halt. Seifer lifted his head, seated by the empty stool, and stared. Rinoa scoffed and whipped around.

“Typical,” she muttered. “Fucking _typical_.”

Five steps from the door, heavy boots rushed to meet her. “Just _stay_ , alright? Already paid. I can leave.”

Rinoa didn’t bother to check behind her; his annoyed voice spoke volumes. “I’ll decide what I do with my evening,” she hissed. “It doesn’t include your hospitality, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, for the love of—” A tight hand latched onto her shoulder and spun her around. “I’m trying to be—”

“ _Don_ _’t_ ,” Rinoa growled, glowering back at him, “you _ever_ touch me.”

Seifer snapped his hands up in defeat, though glared something vicious. “Wow. Fine. Be like that. See what I care.”

“And yet you _had_ to follow me when I was trying to—”

“I’m _sorry_ I can’t say some magical words and _actually_ disappear. Trust me—if I could, I would have done it years ago.”

“Until you can figure that out, stay out of my way.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that _you_ waltzed your way into the place I’ve holed up in?”

Rinoa held her tongue. Past Seifer were heads turning from the counter to inspect the commotion. She focused on each inhale and exhale. _Stay calm. We don_ _’t need to draw attention here._

He followed her line of sight in response to her silence. Seifer combed trembling fingers through his hair, faced her again, and sighed. “You know what?” he grumbled, audible enough for her to listen. “How about we take this outside? Clearly neither of us is cool with leaving each other alone, so why don’t we do the opposite of that and get it out of our systems?”

Before he finished, Rinoa was already nodding and exiting the diner. Street lights guided the path to the docks. She peered behind her twice to confirm Seifer in fact followed. A furious fire blared in that look he shot her.

He stormed by her once they reached the docks and took a sharp turn. Rinoa followed his lead; hopefully all his time working there made him privy to a semi-private spot for them. No one lingered by the water; all the workers either returned home or lost themselves in another drink at a pub. Tethered boats bobbed and the pier groaned intermittently. The moon and street lamps provided sparse, faint light in the dark blue haze of twilight.

Down a flight of stairs to the main dock was a dark alcove nestled beneath the upper level. Spare crates and bins sat alone with old nets and signage. Seifer slowed to a halt in the shadowy crevasse and spun to meet Rinoa with folded arms. With nothing but the moon and seagulls to witness them, the paranoia thrived and raised every tiny hair on the back of her neck.

Rinoa whispered, her voice a phantasmal echo mixed with the ambiance of the ocean. Waving her hand, the silence spell blossomed into existence. An opalescent bubble rippled around them before blending with its surroundings. She almost missed Seifer flinching, the brief glimmer casting highlights along his incredulous expression.

“Alright,” Rinoa said, breaking above a murmur in hopes that Seifer didn’t require an explanation of what she conjured, “so this is the part where we scream at each other until we pass out.” She mimicked Seifer’s stance and tilted her chin up. Damn, why did he have to be so tall? “To get it out of our systems. Your words.”

As she adjusted to the darkness, Rinoa scanned the deep wrinkles in his brow. About the same as when she saw him last. Not the other day, but years ago. This time, however, it wasn’t from smug satisfaction; something else brewed within him.

“Then by all means,” he said, as if recalling the condescending nature of his youth, “go right ahead. Ladies first and all.”

Rinoa filled her lungs with salty air before relinquishing the constant filter on her tongue. “Maybe if our last encounter didn’t involve you sacrificing me to Adel, then perhaps I wouldn’t want to vomit over the very sight of you.”

“Vomit? _Really_? That’s it?” A chuckle laced with his exhale. “Well, I guess that’s better than what Esthar wants to do with me.”

“Maybe I _should_ let the Estharians know you’re here. My negotiations would be _a lot_ easier.”

Blood drained from Seifer’s complexion; the shadows couldn’t hide that. “And what the hell would you even get out of that? Or do you want to live to rest of your life proud of the fact you got rid of me once and for all? You’re _still_ a sorceress.” He flailed at nothing. “Saw you cast a spell like it was no big deal just now. That’s not some para-magic shit, either, or you would have forgotten me by now.”

“That would be too convenient for you, wouldn’t it? Having everyone forget you?”

“More like a fucking relief!” His volume rose, as did the increasing agitation within those words. “And to make shit more fucked up, I have to bump into you every damn day and see you kissing ass with whoever the fuck that is from Esthar.” He leaned forward and cocked his head. “Which by the way, _why_ exactly are _you_ chatting it up with Estharian folk, huh?”

Her shoulders tightened and slid up her neck. “Why do _you_ care?”

“Because I know they want _you_ as much as they want _me_. Can’t exactly kill off a sorceress, but freezing one? Yeah, not fucking hard. The only reason they’re stalling is because they’re _way_ more chicken shit with you than they are with me. Hell, there are _how_ many of them and they _still_ haven’t dragged you back to their flashy city?”

“We’re _negotiating_.”

“Sure as hell hope it isn’t in regards to your prison terms.”

Rinoa stepped forward, almost close enough to smack him if she desired. Her nails dug into her jacket’s sleeves and dared to puncture the leather in search of skin.

“For the technological advancement of Timber,” she corrected him.

“Well, _excuse_ me. Never realized you were playing diplomat for the baby city now. Could they not afford bodyguards for you?” He closed the distance between them. His warm breath brushed over her nose and cheeks, but Rinoa refused to yield. “What’s wrong?” Seifer taunted. “Was the boyfriend not available to follow you like a puppy dog?” He cackled and shook his head. “Oh, my bad. It’s _ex_ -boyfriend, right?”

Her eyes widened. Several waves crashed into pilings before returning to idle ebbs and flows. She exhaled, every inch of her body trembling to remain upright. This was _not_ the conversation she wanted.

“I,” she growled through clenched teeth, her hair swirling without the wind’s aid, “don’t _need_ any bodyguards.” _Not now, not ever again._

His lips curled into a sneer. “A sorceress with no knight, huh? You were always the rebellious type. Guess it’s not _that_ much of a—”

“What difference does it make if I have others with me or not?! Timber can’t afford to let multiple people leave for the sake of negotiations. Damn it, we’re still struggling to survive on our own without the rest of Galbadia’s help! Is _that_ what you want to hear?! Want to know someone else besides _you_ is suffering?! _I_ was the only person who could do well on my own and yes, we’re _all_ hoping that the fact someone like me can have a civil conversation with others who wished I never existed is a step in the right direction for not only our nations, but for the whole world! You think I’ve had it easy since time corrected itself? I can’t just disappear, Seifer! Leaving all that behind to ensure I’m _safe_ isn’t an option for me.”

“Says the girl who peaced out of Garden with absolutely no problem.”

The wooden planks beneath their feet wobbled. Perhaps Seifer didn’t register the motion, dismissing it as the ocean swaying wherever it pleased and making the docks dance along. He was better off assuming as much.

“There was _nothing_ ,” Rinoa said with a contained fury struggling to break free like a bottled hurricane, “even _close_ to the realm of no problem when it came to that decision. _Trust_ me. Sometimes the seemingly easiest of life choices are the hardest ones. You could learn a thing or two about that.”

“About _what_?”

“Maybe life wouldn’t feel so difficult if you stopped running away and hiding from—”

“You think I _wanted_ to do any of that?!” His voice snapped through her. “What, am I supposed to strut on over to Esthar and tell them, ‘Hey, my bad about all that fuckery. Let’s hug it out and pretend it never happened’?!”

“Considering what you did to Esthar, let alone anywhere else, I don’t blame them. You—” The recollection flooded her with chills and nausea. “You _dragged_ me to Adel on Lunatic Pandora. You didn’t _care_ if you hurt me. Nothing I said fazed you. It was like you were _enjoying_ it! How am I to ever trust you again without remembering your attempt to sacrifice me?!”

“At least _you_ were conscious for most of what happened! It’s your damn life and guess what?! Packing your bags and getting the fuck out of Garden, because _surprise_ , people are pissed off SeeDs aren’t doing their sorceress-killing jobs? That’s entirely on you. But me? Last thing I remember was storming Timber with my former instructor and then waking up on the other side of the world. A massive chunk of my life was not only missing, but in that time? Everyone seems to know _exactly_ what I did, despite not having a _damn_ say in what I did.

“Do you know how nauseating it is to see every news article painting you out to be a monster? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Who the hell is going to believe me when the entire goddamn _world_ has evidence that I helped destroy it?! Shit, _I_ don’t forgive myself for what happened and I don’t even fucking remember it! All I have to go by is what everyone else says and yeah, maybe if I ran away from all of it and hid, people would eventually forget about what happened. Until then? I’m the asshole responsible for thousands, if not millions of lives lost. Saying some future sorceress used me as a puppet isn’t good enough to make up for that shit.

“And _you_ —” Seifer snarled, narrowing his sights onto her. “—get a free pass, because why? Because you were with the ‘good guys’? Because daddy asked for some favors? Because _why_?! Fuck, I was even rooting for you! I hoped to find you in Timber when I was last there, before all this shit blew up in our faces. And I was proud of what you’ve done recently, but now? You’re nothing but a spoiled city girl who thought playing in a revolution was better than playing by daddy dearest’s rules. No wonder you had to ask for SeeD’s help. Couldn’t get shit done otherwise. How the fuck did you get this far alive, anyways? Being a sorceress only helps so much before people realize they can take you out just like they did with Adel and Ultimecia and whoever the fuck else gets in their ways.” He scoffed, a condescending smirk brightening his grim face. “No wonder Squall dumped you. He’s better off.”

More than the dock’s wooden panels trembled; the nearby crates and netting rattled while street lights flickered past the cracks above. The ocean current shifted and swirled beneath Rinoa. A torrent of wind rushed past them, but it was the livid fire literally glowing in her eyes that made Seifer flinch.

“Of course that’s what you think!” Rinoa boomed, not caring if her voice cracked through the silence barrier. “You and everybody else! Always assuming without bothering to try and understand! We were fuel for tabloid headlines while absolute strangers _demanded_ to know every second of our personal lives. Because _they_ know better, right? I’m a sorceress and he’s my knight, but also the commander of Garden, so where do his loyalties _really_ lie? Shouldn’t he just kill me—before I show my true colors and annihilate him and the world? Shouldn’t he _know_ better? It didn’t _matter_ if we saved everyone daily. Not when I became the same thing everyone fears and hates!

“You think I actually _wanted_ any of this?!” She flashed open her palms. Extended fingers trembled as ribbons of magic flowed out like steam. “If I _remotely_ knew what fate had planned for me, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of it! Not SeeD, not the Timber Owls, and certainly not _you_! I could’ve handled one person at odds with me, but everyone I know and have yet to meet? Those who call me a friend think twice before speaking to me! I didn’t know before, but I can sense it now! Not by magic, but by remembering how I was treated before all of this happened.

“And Squall—” Several boats snapped free from their ties and drifted out in the turbulent ocean. “—wasn’t an exception. He promised to protect me, regardless if the world was against me, but that was before that possibility came true.” A crate toppled over, spilling free fishing supplies. The wind caught them to revolve around and shield Rinoa. Seifer finally stepped back. “He told me to stay in Garden and I’d be safe. Anyone paying attention to the news knew how the populace felt about that. I thought with Ultimecia gone, everything would be fine, but it wasn’t! The longer I stayed, the more Garden was divided, both inside and outside. All because of _me_!

“He _wanted_ me to stay! But whenever I tried to discuss a realistic plan with him, he’d go quiet. I didn’t want to acknowledge it at first, but I knew what was wrong.” Rinoa snapped tight fists to her sides, shuffling closer while Seifer watched, sublime engulfing his face. “All he had ever known as family and home was _that_ place that wanted me dead. I never thought twice about leaving my father and that prison of a mansion, but asking Squall to do the same, even if it meant us being _happy_ for once, was too much. Almost suicide. I was in the way! Even if I finally became everyone’s enemy….” Tears raced down her cheeks and fell from her jaw. “It didn’t matter what he… what _we_ promised each other. What we shared, what we hoped to experience one day together… it was a damn _lie_!”

Everything froze. The wind, the ocean, all of it. Hooks and bait suspended motionless around Rinoa. Only her shallow, shaking breaths were audible.

“I loved him with all my heart and more,” Rinoa screamed past her sobs, “and it wasn’t enough! It never was! So I went away in hopes that he could be happy again! I did my best to pick up my life where I left it off, before _he_ stumbled into it, but it’s not the same! _Nothing_ is the same! It never _will_ be again! I will always be a sorceress and he will never come back to me. Just like this will always be _your_ fault, because _you_ promised you’d become a SeeD and help me! And all you’ve ever done—” She hissed a breath before shrieking like a banshee guardian force from nightmarish bedtime stories. “—is continue to remind me of everything that is wrong in my life!”

An invisible force pulsed from Rinoa and swept across Fisherman’s Horizon. Stillness one second and absolute chaos the next. Crates levitated, then crashed into splinters. Tidal waves rolled away. Windows in nearby buildings shattered and rained glass on the docks and ocean alike. Every lamppost burned brighter than the sun before exploding and yielding to darkness.

Panicked cries echoed in the night sky. The silence barrier fizzled out of existence. Rinoa touched down to the dock, unaware she too levitated. The magic simmered in her veins and past the rage and exhaustion, she blinked away the tears to settle on Seifer.

He dropped to his knees amidst the explosion, muscular arms clinging to his scalp. After a moment, once the water calmed and the eerie hush no longer plagued him, he peeked up.

“Rinoa,” he murmured.

She held her breath. No spell existed to soothe his trembling tongue, unless she sought to end his life. She could, if that was what she desired. A mere thought and he’d be gone. Never bother her or anyone again. Maybe Esthar would thank her—reward her, even. What reason was there to grieve over the likes of Seifer Almasy?

Another inhale. A dense fog enveloped her. She clamped both hands over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Again he called for her, the sound drifting off. When Rinoa forced her eyes open, the fog lifted and her accommodations at the bed and breakfast welcomed her return.

No windows shattered, no trinkets askew, and definitely no Seifer. Rinoa collapsed into bed and buried her face in a pillow, hoping the whispers that visited her thoughts when the silence choked her would forget her this one time.


	5. Chapter 5

She didn’t remember the following day. Not entirely. The sun nudged her awake, unaware she spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. Her body moved on its own while her mind submerged into a sleep-deprived fog. The day unfolded like highlights from a film reel—garnering enough information to comprehend context, yet missing the spaces in between. Rinoa forced a tired smile in those moments. Esthar’s ambassador was either oblivious to the mask or opted not to comment. They made progress in their compromise, the sole reason Rinoa traveled to Fisherman’s Horizon to begin with. What mattered beyond that?

She did remember that evening, though. The door to her room closed and locked behind her. Rinoa discarded the awful mask and crumbled into bed. With each deep breath, she wished for sleep to whisk her away. No dreams visited Rinoa. Not since time decompressed. She smothered her curiosity questioning the phenomenon; of all the puzzles life presented to humanity, the void of dreams was trivial.

Because it was the nightmares which eviscerated her with dread.

Questions weren’t necessary; she _knew_ why nightmares lingered. When life blinded her with bliss or paranoia, the shadows crept out and strangled Rinoa. The whispers residing only in silence evolved into bellows. The black void she drifted through each dreamless night bled until vibrant colors nauseated her. She attempted to flee, but she dangled midair and flailed. Neither screams nor sobs shot past her gaping lips. Her organs twisted as if she plummeted. Familiar images taunted her, ones she hoped died along with time compression, but what she witnessed continued to plague her mind after all those years.

_None of this is real,_ she reminded herself. Maybe if she repeated it enough, her body would jolt awake and banish distorted memories playing in reverse. Instead, she spiraled through the colorful visions, splitting and multiplying until she plunged through a kaleidoscope of horror. Chills stabbed her skin, provoking silent, blinding tears. For all the power that coursed her blood and awaited her command, nothing in Rinoa’s grasp could cease those nightmares.

A clear murmur boomed in her ears. All else fell silent. She snapped her eyes open and gasped. A dark, yet clean and minimalistic room surrounded Rinoa. The sparse streetlights glowed outside and trickled through a window. Sweat lined her brow as she sucked in breaths.

She pawed the bedsheets, the mattress, the pillow. Not an illusion. She held her breath and flicked her eyes about, waiting for that whisper to tease her ears again and the shadows to rend the reality she clung to. A distant streetlight flickered, the clouds rolled by the moon, and the wind chime consisting of sea glass danced outside her window. Nothing more.

Rinoa exhaled and rolled out of bed. Her muscles begged for rest, but her heart pulsed, frantic as ever, and yearned for solace. _Might as well get some fresh air._

No one greeted her at the front desk once she shuffled down the stairs. No one passed her on the empty streets. No one laughed from the depths of taverns or cozy homes. Only the moon and stars peeked out from the veil of clouds to join her that tranquil night.

She tossed up the hood of her sweatshirt and buried her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. The chilly ocean air nipped her cheeks, though soothed her with each inhale. She ambled through shadows, emerging when a pillar of dim light stood in her way. Rinoa ignored the stray glass fragments sprinkled on her path, the missing windows covered in plastic, the broken bulbs in every other lamp post, the knocked over crates spilled out from the alleys, and the puddles of seawater far from the docks. All reminders of the person she was forced to become, the life she didn’t ask for.

The ocean ebbed and flowed without a care as to the magic she possessed or the horrors which festered in her sleep. She released her breath upon reaching the docks, quivering hands settling into the railing. The metal was no different from ice and anchored her in the moment.

It was enough to leave her blind to the figure also residing in those shadows with her.

Numb eyes wandered to her left after a beat. As she adjusted to the darkness, Rinoa discerned the face staring back at her. Nothing squeezed her heart into a hiccup—not surprise, anxiety, anger, or anything. Then again, little startled her in the fallout of each nightmare visiting her. Thus she nodded. After a pause, so did he. Furthermore, he stayed. As did Rinoa.

Only the waves lolling beneath Fisherman’s Horizon filled the silence. Rinoa leaned into the railing and looked to the stars. For every glimmering speck of light, she imagined another life with all of its possibilities awaiting her. If the clouds didn’t crawl across the night sky, she swore time stood still.

She inhaled salty air and licked her lips. “Do you….” Rinoa sighed and shifted her weight to the other leg. “Do you ever wish you didn’t need to sleep? You know… to function. To exist.”

A tiny voice—her own, thankfully; that much she knew—laughed at her pitiful attempt to converse. _Why are you bringing this up? Why now? What can we possibly fix?_

The wind carried a heavy sigh. A jaded voice followed. “Yeah.”

Rinoa dropped her gaze to the horizon, where the ocean and clouds pretended to mingle. Her shoulders relaxed. When had they tensed up?

“Long, hard day at work exhausts anyone, right?” he continued, barely audible above the breeze and waves. “ There should be something comforting about going to bed, but….” Another sigh, another pause. “It’s not. Not anymore. Not since….”

She waited until anxiety bubbled up in her throat. Rinoa inhaled and peeked to the side; if the shadows swept him away, then perhaps her nightmare persisted. But Seifer still stood there, delicate moonlight washing over his face as he stared out with disinterest in the world.

“You too, huh?” Seifer asked. “Thought it was just me.”

A year ago, she might have laughed. Or even yesterday. “I didn’t think anyone outside of—” She held her tongue, unable to mention her former allies. “Yeah. I figured it wasn’t everyone.”

“I did.” Seifer lowered his gaze. “Made sense. We’re all living and breathing. Not like anyone was an exception to… what happened. Everyone shared the same fate. Might as well suffer together.” He shook his head. “Shows what I know.”

Silence again. Goosebumps flooded Rinoa’s arms beneath her thick layers. She hitched her breath and hoped the wind concealed the sound.

“I wish that wasn’t the case,” Rinoa said, recalling the elusive dreams she once took advantage of. “But… what other choice did we have?”

Seifer hummed, both noncommittal and nostalgic. “Wish a lot of things. Guess you don’t know how good something is until it’s gone.”

Rinoa winced and shoved out abrupt reminders of Squall. A life spent in doubt was no life at all. Then again, neither was wallowing in stubborn nightmares.

“Still,” Seifer drew out, “I can’t help but wonder if it ever mattered.” He paused, perhaps searching for the proper words. Or maybe he struggled with uncorking those bottled sentiments. “She would have tracked me down eventually. If not in Timber, then another place. No use in hiding. I think… of all the times I don’t know that I did, thinking about that possibility—” A frustrated sigh rushed out of him as he clung to his head. “Why am I talking about this? Six years after the fact and she _still_ has me wrapped around her finger.”

Her eyes traced the railing and discovered no answer there; it curled up within Rinoa—it always had—simply waiting for someone else to understand.

“Because nobody gets it.” She inched closer, mindful to leave a foot between them. “Navigating through time compression was one thing, but….” The thought of resting her hand on his shoulder popped to mind. Rinoa squashed it. Why would she do that? How could she ignore everything he did just because… because…. “She only touched _us_ , right? Nobody else.”

After several deep, yet abrupt breaths, Seifer dropped his hands to the railing and slumped forward. “There was Matron, I guess.”

Rinoa twisted her lips. “I didn’t know her well. I never thought to… yeah.”

“I did. Once. Then I laughed at myself for thinking that was a good idea.”

“What’s so funny about reaching out to someone for help?”

“Not that. More the fact that I worried she would turn me in.” He licked his lips amidst his hesitation. “It’s… yeah. I left Fujin and Raijin for the same reason.”

Rinoa swallowed and looked away.

“Sometimes I wonder if… that was a conscious decision on my part or if it was… _her_. Even if I consciously remember it, I worry that her whispers mix with my own thoughts until they yell in my head.” Soft, yet pitiful laughter spilled from Seifer. “Fujin and Raijin were there with me when I got out of it. You know, the time… stuff. I thought I was going to die. I welcomed that—I _wanted_ to die. Anything to end all of that stupid shit. They found me and returned me to the present when I gave up trying. They were worried about me, even before that. I’m not sure if they wanted to turn me in or go back to Garden to do… something, fuck if I know.” With a sigh, Seifer closed his eyes. “I never gave them the chance to find out.”

She remembered that endless flower field. She remembered looking for someone, struggling to recall _who_ exactly. And when she did stumble upon him, she feared it was too late. Ultimecia left her mark. No final showdown could erase that.

“You hear her, too?” was all she could muster in response.

Seifer didn’t answer. Not at first. “Yeah. More than I want to admit.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it… no, forget it.”

“We’re already neck deep in this shit,” Rinoa grumbled. “Why hold back now?”

She feared his hesitation was due to realizing he crossed too many lines in a matter of minutes. Her frustration wasn’t directed at Seifer, but at all the oblivious individuals claiming to support her. No one fathomed that twisted connection with Ultimecia—no one but _him_.

“I remember it being dark,” Rinoa said when Seifer yielded to silence. “Like I was plummeting through frigid waters. It choked me. It twisted inside of me, ripped me open. It was both a lifetime and a split second. I couldn’t do anything, except wait for it to be over. And when it was—” She wrapped her arms around her form, though it did little to ease the dread accompanying the recollections. “Being awake wasn’t any better. Whatever happened… I could never get it back. She robbed me of that. It was so… so—”

“Violating?”

She exhaled, shuddered, and nodded. “To be conscious during all of it… maybe that would have been worse, but….” Rinoa smoothed an icy hand over her bicep. “I thought things would be better when it was over. Even now.” A pause. “What happened in time compression… does that keep visiting you at night, too?”

“Either that or absolute darkness. Don’t remember what it’s like to dream anymore.” He shifted his head to eye her. “Keeps you up, huh?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“You were there, though. During time compression. The nightmares.”

A chill crept up and down her spine. Rinoa cocked her head and furrowed her brow. That wasn’t right. Maybe the wind masked his voice. She had to be hearing things.

“ _Me_?” she eventually asked.

And when he nodded, every inch of Rinoa froze.

“One second I was in Timber, holding the president hostage. The next? The world collapsed. It twisted and bled and broke until I fell through that awful abyss. Just me and that _voice_. She reminded me I was her toy, her _pet_.” Seifer trembled. “She seduced me with promises of comfort, only to rip me apart for her own amusement.

“And when colors overcame that blackness, I was right where I left off. Except no one was there. Not even a damn bird in the trees. I found you by the trains, but when I approached you, you said the same stuff to me back when we first met. You looked through me, like I didn’t exist. The same thing, looping over and over. The buildings distorted each time. So did you.

“I started to think it was all _her_ doing. Another game to make me trust her before she chewed me up and spat me out. I… thought I saw her. Your face warped and I swore it—” Seifer doubled over the railing. “Whenever I sleep now, it’s either the darkness or _that_. Is she truly dead or just fucking with us? But whatever, people moved on and la dee da. Suck it up and get over it. At least we didn’t die, right?” He scoffed. “I’m starting to wish I really had—”

“Don’t say that.”

He lifted his sights to her. Rinoa struggled to stand as she held eye contact.

“No matter what you did,” Rinoa continued, “and regardless if you recall them or not, that doesn’t mean you deserve death.”

“Even after what I did to you?”

“I don’t wish you ill.”

“Then what?”

Rinoa shrugged. “To do better? To not let that define you?”

If he said anything in response, it was cast to the ocean and sunk. Rinoa turned away and focused on those waves that cared not for their midnight musings. If only the rest of the world followed nature’s example. Maybe she wouldn’t be at odds with those she never met, simply because she existed.

Her brows knitted together. There was more than an expansive flower field when she attempted to escape time compression. Between the grassy expanse and barren wasteland were fragmented visions of the place she once called home. She swore Julia’s piano echoed down the halls. But her mother died years ago. Once Rinoa screamed the truth, the illusion shattered, replaced with fog and cracked earth. She found Squall there. Months later, he spoke of what he witnessed in time compression. Until Seifer explained his version, she hadn’t discovered the similarities.

“That whole time, you were thinking of me?” Rinoa asked, careful not to choke on her own words. “In order to get out of time compression, you… but of all the things to hold onto, why would you—”

He wasn’t there to answer, anyways, gone long before she bothered to ask.          


	6. Chapter 6

She retreated to the diner after wrapping up the day with the ambassador. While physically present throughout their discussion, the sentiment wasn’t mutual mentally. Maybe a hot meal could remedy her lack of focus; the coffee and pastry she swiped for breakfast—her one and only meal thus far—certainly didn’t.

But Rinoa failed to lie to herself—there was more than food awaiting her at the diner.

Brilliant orange rays pierced the windows, almost blinding Rinoa. She squinted and shuffled to the counter. Plenty of regulars lined the stools after a grueling workday. None paid attention to her. Not until she plopped into the single available stool. Then again, it was the only individual who mattered.

The stool groaned beneath her weight as she plucked a grease-stained, laminated menu. A radio played above the soda fountain, rattling off the development of Garden’s decommission. Less of a news update and more of an opinion poll from strangers on the streets. Rinoa flicked her eyes back and forth between the burger selection and fried specials.

“Really? This is okay now?”

She didn’t look up. Smooth breaths anchored Rinoa as she skimmed the menu. “Should it not?”

He sighed. Or maybe it was an airy chuckle. The nuances made no difference; the hint of softness in his words conveyed enough. “Considering what happened _last_ time you came here—”

“Well, that was then.” Rinoa flipped over the menu and furrowed her brow. “What’s your opinion on the shakes here?”

His laughter contorted her already wrinkled face. She eyed Seifer to her right as he smirked.

“Please don’t tell me you came here just to talk about food,” he said through a snicker.

“You’ve been here longer than I have and I’m hungry, so… yeah, for now that’s all I care about.”

Seifer scanned her from top to bottom, as if he’d find a lie tucked in her back pocket. He cracked his neck and murmured, “Why the hell does my opinion matter when you know damn well the vanilla bean one is the only option?”

A brief smile teased her lips. “Even after all these years?”

“Tch, why do you still remember that? It’s been what… seven years? Give or take?”

_Why do_ you _still remember?_ she wanted to quip, instead silenced by nostalgia.

Had it truly been that long, though? She had snuck out late at night to meet up with the boy she met—a SeeD candidate needing extra training with a specialized weapon. Anything beyond that? Hell if Rinoa knew. Meeting up to tour the city, share a milkshake, and exchange teasing banter? That mattered. More than she wanted to admit, both then and now. And maybe Seifer forgot, just like everything else between that summer and time compression.

But it wasn’t about the milkshake; it was about what _he_ chose to remember.

Rinoa shrugged. “Long enough.”

“And?”

“And I need something good to dip my fries in.”

“Geez, you _still_ do that shit?”

“Now I’m going to do it to pluck your nerves.”

“Mission accomplished.”

A waitress swooped in to jot down Rinoa’s order, not once making eye contact. Her cheerful, yet jaded tone matched the overplayed tunes on the radio. Rinoa fiddled with her menu, gazing at the assorted knick-knacks on the wall: photos of long-gone, local seafaring legends, rusted signs from the first boats docked at Fisherman’s Horizon, and even the fishing rod of a five-time angler champion from Balamb. Always calm, always out of chaos’ reach. Almost as if Ultimecia skipped over the location altogether.

“You know,” Seifer eased in after Rinoa was five sips into her latte, “if you came by just to pluck my nerves—”

“I didn’t.” She traced the rim of her mug. “I’m also starving.”

She liked to think he smirked at that, but she never bothered to check.

“So,” Seifer drew out, “you sure this is okay?”

What did that mean anymore? The world no longer panicked over the whims of a maniacal, future sorceress, but the effects lingered. Scars carved into cities, into relationships, into individuals. Every glance in the mirror was but another reminder of what happened. No spell could erase that. It was a matter of coming to terms with those fading, yet permanent marks.

Nothing was okay. It never _would be_ again. Yet her heart and breaths flowed like the ocean—constant and insouciant.

Rinoa licked her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. For now, anyways.”

Seifer breathed out a chuckle. “For now.”

Her coffee emptied. A vanilla bean shake replaced it, but Rinoa returned her attention to the wall and the reminders of the past crammed into all available space. The news reporter finally changed the topic to Deling City’s struggle to stay afloat throughout its political collapse. Something about fingers pointing in their direction for not owning up to their involvement with Ultimecia. Not that Rinoa paid much attention; Galbadia would eventually follow Garden’s example.

“Can I ask you something?” Rinoa turned to face Seifer, who met her with wide eyes, as surprised as she was by the question.

“Uh, sure?” He shrugged. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever….” She sighed and dropped her gaze to the countertop. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” His silence nudged her to continue her train of thought. “You try to readjust to normal life after everything and do what you think is right, but—”

“It doesn’t add up?”

Rinoa looked to Seifer. Those bright, cool eyes that once smoldered with a wildfire. She admired that. Envied it at times, even. Nothing burn before her, though—only ash lived there now.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Like no matter where you go, you’re invading someone else’s home.”

He scanned their surroundings, pausing at the same paraphernalia on the wall. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Why here?”

A smirk attempted to tug at his lips, but Seifer bit it back. He jerked his shoulders, less of a shrug and more of a twitch doubting his own opinion. “Why not? Kind of obvious, yeah? No one gives a shit, so long as you don’t cause trouble. Even if Esthar and Deling City marched in with warrants, everyone here would uphold the pacifist thing.” He waved a hand, as if a document detailing said pacifism was lost somewhere in the diner. “It was never about having a life again. I… needed to survive. Just figured that… fuck, I don’t know what I figured. Maybe it would get better? Maybe I wouldn’t be here forever? Beats me.”

Seifer deserved a lecture for considering defeat. Or so her inner teenager insisted. Life was too precious to not cherish it. Rinoa learned that thanks to Fury’s relentless rule over her in her mother’s absence. She escaped for a reason; she needed to _live_ , not just exist.

But that was a lifetime ago and Rinoa experienced ten times more than what any typical human was subjected to. The will to fight back and offer hope fizzled. What Seifer spoke of didn’t infuriate her—it resonated with her.

“You ever wish you could go somewhere without worrying about that?” Rinoa took a sip of her shake. Not the same without a crispy fry. “Start over or something?”

“Tch, yeah, that’s nice and all, but _where_ exactly?”

She quirked her lips. “Trust me, I ask the same thing whenever I think about it.” After a pause, she added, “You’re right, though. It sounds nice.”

Seifer slumped into the counter. “Yeah. No arguing there.”

New patrons replaced those vacating the counter. The sunlight receded from the diner until only glowing mason jars illuminated the area. Someone turned the radio knob, splices of various voices competing for attention in a split second, until a retro music station hummed into existence. The waitress returned with a plate and slid it into Rinoa’s view. A layer of grease coated her mammoth burger, stacked with slabs of beef, cheese, bacon, pickles, and caramelized onions. She ignored it, plucked out a fry, and dunked it into her shake.

“Yup,” Seifer grumbled while Rinoa savored it, “still gross.”

“Then don’t look at me—” She scooped up more of the shake on another fry and shoved it into her mouth. “—while I’m doing it.”

Seifer never flinched; he simply stared, smirked, and shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said.

Rinoa paused. He had said that once before. There had been giggles and nudged ribs and bickering turned teasing. She didn’t fathom then of the hell he would drag her through. Why worry about the future when all that mattered was wasting every waking second with the cute boy who kept her more entertained in a single summer than anyone else had her entire life?

And Rinoa remembered what she had said in response. What was more nauseating than the recollection was that she didn’t shudder now at her former tokens of endearment.

A smile struggled to live on her lips. Rinoa smothered it with another shake-coated fry.

Halfway through her burger, Seifer prompted Rinoa with, “What are you doing here?”

She paused mid-bite and raised an eyebrow. “Um… eating?”

“No, that’s not—” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I meant what are you doing _here_. Like, in general.”

“I already told you.” She sunk into her fatty burger, munched, and swallowed. “Diplomatic nonsense with Esthar.”

“Yeah, I know, but… why?”

“Why what?”

“You know why.”

Her dark eyes searched her half-eaten plate for the right words, only to find reasons to stuff her mouth until talking was impossible. After all those years, the worst part about Seifer was admitting he had a point. But what was there to fear when the fire awaiting its proverbial fuel died out long before it required rekindling?

“And I’m sure,” Rinoa spoke on an exhale, “you know why, too.”

“Really?” he asked, more uninterested than curious.

“We’re not that different, you and I.”

She met his gaze. Seifer regarded her with something she hadn’t experienced from anyone in far too long. A pleasant chill tickled her spine; she wanted to submerge in that feeling and never come up for air.

“I….” Rinoa chewed her lip, lost in thought. “What else am I to do? I guess I could go into hiding. Wait until everyone calms down and forgets me. Maybe then it would be better, but I don’t know. No one does. And the thought of becoming a hermit doesn’t appeal to me, either. I need to _do_ something, feel like I’m helping with… making the world a better place? It’s hard to keep giving and giving and get so little, if anything, in return. I might have considered it, if circumstances were different. The hermit thing, that is. But now?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could. But what I’m doing right now isn’t exactly living, either. It’s just—”

“Surviving?”

A content sigh flowed out of Rinoa. “Yeah. That.”

Rinoa finished her meal, albeit slowly. The waitress collected her gil and shuffled off to fetch change from the register. A new bustling crowd replaced the weary solace from the dock workers. Friends and family laughed and chatted without a care as to who heard. All who remained at the counter were couples attempting to impress their respective date. Seifer stayed. At any point, he could have left, but he persisted in the silence shared between them.

Several years ago that would have unsettled her. Now? Rinoa made little sense of it.

“Are you seriously _not_ going to finish that?”

Rinoa split her change—half for the tip and the rest in her wallet—and followed his line of sight. The shake sat half full, condensation running down the exterior. “Not really. It was just for my fries.”

Seifer eyed her, then the shake. “Do you mind if… I mean, is it okay if—”

“Yeesh, shit or get off the pot.” She pushed the glass in his direction. “Literally the least of my worries. Enjoy.”

He caught it and twirled the straw between his fingers. She swore he smiled. “Hey, Rin?”

Rinoa swept her bangs aside and managed to not stumble to her feet. “Yeah, what?”

Seifer kept his focus on his newly acquired shake. “I hope the stuff with Esthar goes well.” He paused. “And I hope that whatever happens, that you can be at peace with yourself.”

She blinked and wrapped an arm around herself to rub her bicep. “Um, yeah. Same to you, I guess.”

“And I’m sorry. For… well, everything.”

Disbelief chocked Rinoa. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

“Thanks again.”

She fluttered her eyes. “Uh… for _what_?”

“For reminding me I’m not alone in this.”

Rinoa stood in silence. Then again, Seifer didn’t elaborate any further, already nursing his shake. She left the diner, enveloped by cold air. It did little to numb her from the racing thoughts.

He used to call her Rin, back when they stayed up until the sun rose and laughed down the barren streets of Deling City as if it was theirs to rule. It was the same time she stole his milkshake to see what all the fuss was about, later reveling in the indirect kiss they shared. It was the same time she lived without considering the consequences. She had an equal then.

Rinoa paused before entering the bed and breakfast, hiding her blushing face in her palms. Blood thumped in her chest as each breath skittered in her throat. When had she last felt like this? Better yet, when had she last _allowed_ herself such a luxury?


	7. Chapter 7

She did it. Well, not _entirely_ her doing. Nor was everything finalized, but it was progress. One that tilted in Timber’s favor, at that. Rinoa braced herself for a lengthy, final day in Fisherman’s Horizon, only to find herself sprinting to the bed and breakfast by noon to borrow a phone. Screw the long distance fees—the call was worth every gil.

Rinoa withdrew the phone from her ear before her former rebellion allies turned elected leaders squealed in unison. _And they say_ I’m _the loud one,_ she mused with a snort. No official document promised them the new tech they craved, but there would be soon. Really soon. Hell, she asked the Estharian ambassador a _third_ damn time to repeat her offer, swearing she imagined it. But the ambassador complied with a smile.

“You’ve done an excellent job, Rinoa!” one of the voices crackled through the phone.

“Couldn’t have sent anyone better.”

“Yeah, imagine if Zone had gone and—”

“ _Shut up_ , I’m right here!”

She should have smiled—something grander and more genuine. After confirming her departure the following morning with the others, she hung up and returned to her room. Rinoa collapsed into bed, her lips cemented in a straight line as she gazed at the ceiling.

Neither elation nor relief thrummed in her heart.

_Why am I doing this?_ Rinoa exhaled and closed her eyes. _Timber is home, right? I_ _’ve done so much for them and so have they for me. Or at least they did. Things changed. I didn’t want them to, but they did. If I stopped being useful, would they—_

Her eyes cracked open, glossed over as the reality tore through until dread remained.

She lounged there in an attempt to calm the imagined scenarios and conversations overlapping. When stillness offered no relief, Rinoa flung herself off the bed and kept busy with packing her belongings. She assembled a new outfit for morning, something better suited for the last days of summer in a dense forest.

Amidst smoothing a hand over her selections, she paused. What if she _didn_ _’t_ depart for Timber? Rinoa almost laughed. _Why wouldn_ _’t I? s_ he tried to reason with herself. _Where else am I supposed to go?_

A thought came to mind. She brought her free hand to her necklace, rolling about her mother’s wedding ring. The weight of another ring was absent, lost somewhere at the bottom of the ocean before she had departed Balamb for Timber. Rinoa stilled herself and wove together another life in which she never left. Maybe it could have worked. Maybe if she wasn’t a sorceress and he wasn’t a SeeD.

Maybe. Who knew anymore. Neither of them understood the other’s logic, if it was even fair to call it that. No one truly did.

Her breath caught in her throat gently. That wasn’t entirely true; not _everyone_ was oblivious to her reasoning.

Rinoa released the ring and exited her room. Down the creaking steps composed of recycled pallets, she retreated to the streets. The afternoon sun blinded her, but it was the solid body she collided into which dazed her. A firm hand on her shoulder steadied Rinoa.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You okay?”

She stumbled and lifted a hand to shield herself from the golden rays. Her stare widened. “Seifer?”

He squinted beyond the light, only to mimic her expression. “Geez, you’re still here?”

Rinoa huffed. “Yeah. Fortunately for you, today’s my last day. I leave tomorrow. Figured I’d say goodbye or something.”

“Right.” He paused and released her while she contemplated darting back into the bed and breakfast. The sun set his eyes aflame; one glance was enough to hypnotize Rinoa. “So done playing diplomat or what not?”

“Not really. There’ll be more, I’m sure, but I’m good at the moment.”

Seifer raised an eyebrow. “You sound _so_ thrilled about this development.”

“Look, it wasn’t on my top five dream jobs when I was in grade school, but at least it’s keeping me busy.” _Oh, for the love of—_ “Why are you laughing at me?”

Seifer failed to hide his growing, crooked grin. “I’m not.”

“Fine, snickering. Whatever you want to call it.”

“No, I meant… I’m not laughing _at_ you.”

She folded her arms. “Then _why_?”

“Just liked the mental image of bitty you making outlandish goals like riding a red dragon and saving knights as a dream job.”

Rinoa almost choked on her tongue. “That… _was_ a dream job of mine as a kid. How… why did you—”

“Because you told me once.”

She never spoke it, but it eased into Rinoa’s mind and enveloped her with warmth: _And you remembered_.

“But yeah.” Seifer shrugged, shoved his hands into his pockets, and shuffled past her. “Hope your diplomat thing goes well. Or… went well. Either way, you take care of yourself.”

That was it. No proper farewell, no promises of seeing each other again, no— _Why would I even want that?_ Saying things out of tradition held as much meaning as someone shattering a beloved vow. Rinoa stared at Seifer as he walked on, nothing but a silhouette against the sinking sun. She blinked out the light stinging her vision. She replayed their brief brush with one another. Not then, but every damned day she was stuck on Fisherman’s Horizon. Again she clutched her necklace—the first time she did so without searching for the missing ring.

Her thoughts aligned. Her heart skipped a beat. She drew a breath and withheld the urge to scream. Then she ran.

Several other pedestrians perked up as Rinoa sprinted by, as if curious about her destination. Wind whipped by her face and raked through her hair. She gulped down frantic breaths while searching the streets. Close to the docks, she caught up with the lumbering figure and reached out.

Fingertips brushed his shoulder. Seifer slowed to a stop and peeked over his shoulder. Rinoa nearly collided into him yet again, though her halt lacked grace.

“Uh,” Seifer said, gradually turning to face her, “what’s up?”

Rinoa smoothed out her jeans and hoodie before standing tall. “After everything that happened… with Ultimecia, with Garden—” She paused, though her lips still trembled. “With us.” He averted his gaze for a second. “You could have forgotten all of that and moved on.”

“Same could be said about you.”

She shook her head and inched closer. “But you _chose_ to remember specific parts. Why?”

“Is there a point to this or—”

“You thought of me, didn’t you? When she captured you for her own needs, when you drifted through time compression….” Nothing. That was enough of an answer. “You still do.”

“I just want you to be happy, Rinoa. That’s all.”

Her lips curled up ever-so-slightly. “I want you to be happy, too.”

Seifer erupted into laughter. “Geez, look at us, like a bunch of teenagers discovering puberty.”

Rinoa glared. “I’m serious!”

“So am I! Yeesh, you think I just say shit because I enjoy hearing myself talk?”

“No. Well, maybe, but—” She groaned and crossed her arms. “You’re beyond stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Rinoa rolled her eyes. “Why I’m doing this?” she muttered and pivoted on her heels. “Forget it.”

“That’s _it_? Chased me down for _that_?”

“I said forget it!” Rinoa waved a hand at him. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Hang on.” Seifer jogged to catch up with her, blocking her path. Damn it, why did he have to be taller than her and… beefier. “I only left to get out of the way of your diplomat bullshit. Can’t let you be late for any of that.”

Rinoa shrugged and averted her gaze. “Yeah, no, you weren’t ruining anything. Like I said, I’m done with it for now.”

“Wait… I thought you meant for the afternoon.”

“No, for the _week_.” She motioned in his general area. “Besides, don’t you have dock work to do or—”

“How did it go?”

She perched tense fists on her hips. “How did _what_ go?”

“Uh, the diplomat bullshit? You know, the thing we’re _talking about_?”

“Well, I guess.”

“ _Well_?”

“Yeah, as in good. Probably better than good.”

“Are you serious?”

Rinoa pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. “Why would I make any of this up?! No, it went _horribly_ , Seifer, and I’m just saying shit so that—”

She squeaked and lifted off the ground. All of Fisherman’s Horizon spun around her as tender, yet sturdy arms enveloped her. Laughter vibrated down to her toes alongside the flood of burning blush.

“Damn straight it went well!” Seifer cackled against her. “Bet you showed them who was boss, too! I knew you had it in you.” His steps slowed and her surroundings stilled from the blur before he murmured, “You always did.”

Her feet touched back down to the ground. She lifted her chin and met Seifer’s fierce, yet tender stare. Nothing tensed. Nothing shuddered and squirmed away. Nothing surfaced from her lips to scold him. Rinoa melted into him and he never loosened his hold. Cautious palms settled into his chest. She flicked her sights over him and chewed her lip. His grin eased into a knowing smirk. Rinoa held her breath, stood on her tiptoes, and closed her eyes. Seifer met her halfway.

They had done this before. Back when they lacked experienced and gleaned tips from fictional stories in hopes to impress the other. They fumbled and tripped and giggled in between their efforts. For all the class lectures that bored them to death, nothing prepared them for life’s simple mysteries. Sometimes that knowledge was tucked behind gruesome, first-hand experiences. In between the hopeless tears and livid screams, hope flickered like a candle in the wind. The truth resided in what was absent. Only then did she understand what it was she yearned for.

Only then could she share a proper kiss with Seifer.

What words even came close to describing the sensation which made her forget reality? It was warm, it was genuine, it was raw, it was profound, it was eternal.

It was home.

They reluctantly broke apart to gasp for air. Rinoa gazed at him through thick lashes. Seifer licked his lips with equally heavy eyelids.

“Is….” He inhaled, a tremble visible in his throat. “Is this okay?”

She swore time stopped. Maybe it had.

“Yeah.” Rinoa nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I think it is.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “I had been thinking, but… I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“About what?”

He looked elsewhere and sighed. “About the other day when we were talking about… not belonging anywhere and I just thought… how nice it would be to run away and find that place where we could _live_ and not worry. About _any_ of this.”

“And?”

He paused. “No, that’s it. I didn’t think too much past that.” Rinoa snorted and Seifer glared. “Oh, so it’s _totally fine_ for _you_ to laugh at me, but I can go fuck myself if I even think of it?”

“Cut it out!” she said, the words woven through her giggles. Rinoa whacked his shoulder and propped her forehead against his chest. “No, it just… I expected that much from you.”

He nuzzled into the top of her head. “Really?”

“ _Really_ really.”

“Then I guess now is also a good time to say some other things that have been on my mind that I was petrified to mention.”

“Like?”

Fingers skimmed the tips of her brown locks. “I like your new hair.”

Rinoa fidgeted in place.

“I like your badass new wardrobe.”

She buried her face in him as he smoothed over her hair.

“I like that you apparently drink beer now? Of all things?”

“What,” Rinoa said, her words muffled, “and you don’t?”

“I figured you’d be… I don’t know, into the fancy shit.”

“When have I _ever_ been fancy?”

“I mean, there was that smoking hot dress you wore to the inauguration ball that one— _Ow_! Why are you smacking me again?!”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

Seifer scooped up her chin to meet her. “The only thing embarrassing about any of that was that I had my head too far up my ass to think of asking you to dance.”

The memory almost robbed Rinoa of her smile. “Well, you fucked up. We all did. It’s just a matter of how we handle the consequences and what we do.” She paused, hyperaware of every movement of his fingers, every twitch of his eyes, every subtle inhale and exhale. “I… I don’t know if this will—”

“And neither do I,” Seifer murmured, resting his forehead against hers, “but I think I’d rather jump off the pier than _not_ try, yeah? What’s there to lose? We can only go up from here.”

After a moment, she nodded slightly, her nose brushing against his. “I know. I just worry.”

“Yeah, I get that.” A beat, then, “I can’t promise things will be better or that shit won’t blow up in our faces or hell, maybe _another_ sorceress from the future will show up. None of that is in my control.”

“I don’t want promises, anyways. Either do it or don’t. Words are meaningless.”

“Hey now, I’m trying to be romantic and shit, so at least _humor_ these words?”

Rinoa snickered. “I can do that.”

“Alright. Good. It’s just that… whatever does happen? I want to work through it.” He closed his eyes. “You’re worth that much and more.”

She hoped her blushing cheeks didn’t burn a hole into him. “Seifer….”

With a forced, yet short sigh, he flashed his eyes open and withdrew. “Alright, enough of this mushy crap. I’m not cut out for it.” He clapped Rinoa’s shoulders. “So what do you say? Go grab some drinks to celebrate?”

“I, uh… _drinks_?”

“Yeah? To, you know, _drink_?”

“No, I mean—” He was already walking and so was she. His hand dropped to the small of her back—a featherlight touch. “ _Why_ are we drinking?”

“Did you just forget that you scored some sweet deal with Esthar? That’s grounds for drinking to me. Come on, I’m paying. Whatever you want.” He squinted. “I mean, whatever I can _afford_.”

“You forget I have expensive taste?”

“Oh, _excuse_ me. _Not_ fancy. Just expensive. Rub it in, why don’t you?”

Rinoa smirked and leaned into him. “You know I will.”

Seifer chuckled and shook his head. “Girl after my own heart.”

“Not romantic or fancy, but with eyes bigger than her wallet?”

“Eh, something like that.”

Another memory blipped to life. It rippled through until she doubled over in a giggling fit.

“Wow, _seriously_?” Seifer stood in front of her, only his boots visible to Rinoa. “We’re doing this again? What’s so funny now?”

Rinoa lifted her smiling face. “I remembered something.”

“Shocker. Care to humor me?”

“It was something you said once, back during that summer together. You talked about your romantic dream or what not.” She wrinkled her nose. “And what are _you_ grinning about?”

Seifer cupped her cheeks and eased into her lips. “You were the only one I ever told.”


End file.
